Dear Mom,
I have never told you just how much learning how to bake cookies with you has enriched my life. I started out baking chocolate chip cookies with you and loved it so much that I wanted to see what other types of cookies I could make. I felt like I could bake anything with a recipe. Now that I am a woman with a husband and child baking has shifted from cookies to cakes and brownies and breads. So when I sat down this morning with my piece of delicious banana walnut bread that I made yesterday it reminded me of this cookie story I never told you. Now this story might not be your cup of tea but I promise that if you stay to the end you will know a little more about me.
When I was in college and living in my apartment I made cookie edibles. So one random day in the fall semester I was at my apartment playing on my xbox and I was wanting to do something different. I had heard from friends that edibles had a different effect than smoking and it lasted longer. So I wanted to see if I could make some edibles for me and my friends for when we would go out. So I started researching the process of how to make the cookies. I felt confident that I could make cookies because I had been making cookies for years at this point. So I found this website that looked legit enough and I decided I would follow their recipe. Now I don’t know how big the batch of cookies was that the people on the website were making but it said I needed a whole ounce of flower to enfuse 4 sticks of butter. Looking back on this, that is way too much flower especially if the quality and potency of the flower is high. This is the first of many mistakes I would go on to make during this process.
So now that I think I know how to make these chocolate chip cookies I started calling friends and their connections to find someone to tell me how much an ounce cost and sell it to me. I literally had no clue how much an ounce would cost nor how much flower was about to be given to me. I found out it was a lot and it was going to cost me $200. Now that I had found someone and how much, I needed the money to buy it because I probably only had a good $50 to my name after groceries and gas from my paycheck. So I decided to raise the funds by asking people that wanted cookies to pay me on the front end so that I could buy the flower and that they would get a certain amount of cookies for a certain amount of cookies. Surprisingly everyone that I ended up asking placed their order. So now thatI had gathered the $200 and talked to the guy about making the transaction.
I had to wait a few days to get it. It was the most flower I had ever seen in my life at that point and it smelled extremely pungent. The guy ended up apologizing to me because he ended up needing to wrap the bag it was already in with layers of saran wrap and put dryer sheets into the layers furthest from the flower and it still was very pungent! At this point with the flower in hand I start to get a thrill running through me because now the fun of baking begins but also because now I realize that I could really get in trouble for having so much on me. I quickly went to my car with it, from there I went and got the stuff for cookies and I went back to my apartment.
Now I didn’t have any paraphernalia like a grinder so I had to break it down by hand. It was supposed to be broken down so that it could go through a process called decarbing in the oven to release the THC. But I was too afraid that the apartment would smell too strongly and I would get in trouble. After breaking it down I looked at how much was available and it looked like way too much for the 4 sticks of butter I had gotten so I used half in the butter and put a top over it and let the butter cook for 30 minutes. That butter and flower mixture didn't smell very good so I didn’t want it to go any longer than that. The cookies were edible but not very great. The cookies tasted like edibles to put it lightly, and they didn't have a very strong effect. It was an absolute disaster when I think back on it. I had absolutely no clue what I was doing but that was also the fun part.
About the Creator
Chynia Norton
I am a woman, wife, mother, and writer through and through.
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MY MOTHER
The strongest person I have ever known is my mother. My earliest memory is waking up early with my parents, Dad leaving for work, and Mom dropping Adam off for school (he was in first grade at the time). When I was younger, I used to question a lot why I had to wake up so early to be like everyone else. As I've gotten older, I've come to realize that there were several reasons (that multiplied as I grew older), the primary one being that my mother was reluctant to leave me home alone when I was four years old. Second, Mom wanted me to become accustomed to it. My mom was an intelligent woman. I hated all three from an early age, yet she always found creative methods to make me tidy my room, wash my teeth, or take a bath. However, by the time I was eleven, I frequently found them to be enjoyable and eager to participate. But her intelligence was due to more than this. She was always able to offer sound counsel. When I was seven years old, I used to frequently cry when I got home from school because I was a little overweight, and my friends would mercilessly pick on me. With her arms wrapped around me, my mother would brush my long hair back from my face and wipe away my I told her what had happened, crying. Several times, my mother gave me sound counsel, as though she had been present when it occurred. When I was younger and would complain about my weight, my mother would comfort me by telling me that she had been in my shoes before. I didn't believe it when I was this small, since I didn't resemble her at all. I was small and stubby, with short, nearly black hair and green eyes, while she was tall and skinny, with long, mousy brown hair and blue eyes. (People used to believe that I was adopted because my dad doesn't resemble me at all.) When I was nine years old, the kids at school were still picking My mother brought out an old picture album that I had never seen before and looked at me.
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